


Without You

by cassie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie/pseuds/cassie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is frustrated that his band-mate Louis just cannot seem to realise that the younger boy is in love with him, and he takes action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

Harry pressed the blade to his skin. He watched mesmerized as the blood leaked slowly out of his sliced skin. Harry didn’t comprehend what was happening right now in the slightest. All he could realise was that Louis, his best friend – band mate, had yet another girlfriend. When would  
Lou ever realise Harry was in love with him?

Harry was used to this pain, but he never got over it or through it. He never showed his feelings of love and adoration to his band mate, Harry never expressed his emotions of hurt when there was another girl in his life either. And for Harry; didn’t people ever catch on why he himself barely dated? It was always hook-ups for one simple reason: he always felt like he was betraying his feelings towards Louis otherwise.

The lad continued to make little cuts across his wrists, watching them eagerly as the crimson fluid flowed out smoothly. It gave him some sort of relief, some release of the pain he couldn’t bear, the pain he couldn’t hold in.  
When Harry was done and his high moment had passed, he slouched against the chilly bathroom wall. Letting out a sigh, he sat there for mere minutes that seemed like hours. Harry felt the warm tears slip down his cheeks yet once more today, frightened of how beat up and bloody his arms were. Licking the salty waters away, he stood up – collecting his razors and bracelets. Following those motions, he cleaned the cuts and bandaged them well.

Then, there was a knock on the restroom door.

“Harry, are you okay in there mate – you’ve been in there a dreadfully long time.” It was Louis, best friend, love, band mate, flat mate.

“I’m alright, Lou, just give me a few more minutes.” Harry replied, gulping, hoping he didn’t sound upset.

“Okay, well, when you’re out I wanna have a chat with you, I’ll be in the kitchen making a cuppa.” His friend replied slowly, suspiciously.

Harry gulped, his fists clinging to the sink knobs. What on Earth could Louis want? Maybe he had noticed how sad and distant Harry had seemed, it should be obvious, the young eighteen-year-old was ridiculously bad at hiding his emotions – no matter how hard he been trying.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, nearly twenty-one-year-old Louis Tomlinson was brewing a pot of Yorkshire tea. He was awfully worried about his best friend, Harry Styles. The younger boy had seemed so far gone lately, disconnected and ultimately – isolated. It was odd, Louis thought, Harry always told him everything.

Louis had finally racked up the nerves to tell Harry they were going to have a talk about it. He didn’t tell Harry what exactly the chat was going to be about, just that they were going to talk. The blue-eyed young man prayed his friend wouldn’t get riled up and upset – but he just knew… it was going to be inevitable.

Approximately ten minutes later after the bathroom escapade, the curly haired lad emerged from the tiny room and found Louis where he said he’d be, in the kitchen.

“Hey, Boobear.” Harry appeared fine on the outside, wearing track sweats, a long sleeved pajama shirt, and a clean face. Deep down though, his heart was aching and his stomach was reeling.

Louis gulped shyly; it’d been ages since Harry had called him by his own nickname. What was up with this young boy lately? “Hiya, Hazza.” He replied anxiously. “I’ve made us some tea.”

Harry instinctively stalled, by pouring his own cup of tea – mixing in the condiments slowly. Louis noticed Harry’s stalling, and remarked on it; “Harry stop stalling.”

Both boys just knew that this talk was going to be important and emotional. Harry sat down across from Louis at the small wooden table, and couldn’t dare look his band mate in the eyes. He was too nervous.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” The feathery-brunette started.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Harry lied, knowing Louis wouldn’t stop his soft interrogations until the green-eyed lad gave in and told him everything, all of his feelings and such.

“You’re lying Harry, and I’m not going to let it go, or let you leave the chair you’re sitting in – until you tell me.” The older lad replied.

Questions quickly flooded Harry’s mind. Would Louis think he was disgusting? Would their friendship change? What would the fans say; if they found out? Or Management – they’d freak out beyond all means for sure. Harry’s mouth felt incredibly dry, and he procrastinated once more by taking a long sip of his tea.

Harry gulped down a lot of the tea, it scalding his throat. He didn’t pay any attention to that though, it couldn’t compare to the pain in his heart – or the dull, achy, throbbing of his wrists, for that matter.

“Harry.” Louis continued, sternly.

Harry met his blue eyes, gazing deeply into them with his own green set.

At this moment in time, Louis read so many mixed emotions in the teen boy’s eyes. Fear, anger, angst, and was that… could it be – adoration, maybe even love? No, Louis thought. Harry did not love him.

Harry took in a deep breath, it was shaky – but he built up the courage to say his words in a matter of a minute. He had no clue where to begin, so he just let himself start to ramble – hoping for the best; but expecting the very worst.

“I love you Louis William Tomlinson. I honestly dunno where to start – so how’s that? Seeing you go through girls, girl to girl, it hurts my heart. I feel jealous all the time, pissed off, and it kills me inside to watch you love someone else. I always selfishly think how much better I could love you. How much better I already know you then they do.”

Harry took another deep gulp of air, not daring to meet his band mate’s startled glance. His palms felt clammy and very sweaty, but he continued on.

“I honestly dunno what to say – or how to continue on. So I’ll just let myself ramble. Starting in the mornings, the way you burn our breakfast while cooking in your boxers. You look incredibly sexy.” He prayed Louis wouldn’t find his gay affection for him gross. “I know everything about you – so it doesn’t seem right watching you with chicks that don’t; chicks who ultimately just want your cash and your dick.” Harry swallowed hard, hoping Lou wouldn’t flip on that note.

Louis was taken aback, absolutely shocked by what Harry was saying.

The lad was in love with him.

Simply, in love with him.

He swallowed.

“And,” Harry continued; “If you’d let me, I’d tell everyone we know. Why? Because I don’t give a flying fuck what people think… I just felt the need to add that in.” 

He closed his mouth, feeling awkward. He was surely pissing Louis off a lot. “So, yeah.” By this time, Harry’s nails were picked at and bloody, his palms sweatier than before, and he was staring at his hands like they were some sort of newly-discovered tropical bird – interesting, and fascinating.

Louis’ tone of voice was shaky, but certain. “Oh Harry.” Harry heard the telltale backwards scooting of a chair against the hardwood. Soon, he felt Louis cup his chin in his small, girlish hands. “Harry – why didn’t you ever say anything? Oddly enough, I date those girls to try and make my feelings just for you disappear. It never works, but I always think maybe the next time ‘it’ll be different’.”

Harry could not even begin to believe what he was hearing. Yet, he was so happy. It was like a thousand weights were lifted off of his burdened chest.

“Now kiss me you mellow-dramatic fool.” Louis let an impish grin spread across his face – typical Louis.  
Harry was rather surprised by this statement, and didn’t even move. He just gawked up at his older mate with wide, teary, eyes. “K-kiss y-you?” he stumbled. Louis responded simply with a nod of his head.

“Actually, one moment.” Louis paused, whipping out his iPhone 5. He left the room abruptly, and within a few dragging minutes, the British boy was back.

“Don’t just kiss me Harry…” Louis looked away briefly, as if it were some cheesy romance novel. “Do me the honor of being my wonderful boyfriend?” Their gazes met one another’s, and Harry couldn’t find words.

Harry was absolutely speechless. He folded his palms into fists, not angry fists though.

“Why don’t you kiss me, first, Boobear?” Harry began to taunt, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Alright then.” As Louis responded, the younger boy could already smell the spearmint of Louis’ breath on his own face.

Louis leaned down, his breath on Harry’s face. His heart was racing, his head was pounding. He was sure of his feelings of Harry – but something told him it was a stupid measure to break up with the most recent girl for this. 

What if it didn’t last? What if it ruined their friendship – or worse, the band? What was at stake? What-if’s obviously uncomfortably danced throughout Louis’ mind.  
He didn’t care anymore though; he had been waiting on this moment for far too long now.

Louis gently pressed his smooth lips to Harry’s chapped ones. This was weird. Not bad-weird though, it was simply because Louis had never kissed another man before, much less his best friend.

Ignoring this fact, their lips worked perfectly in sync together, not at all breathing, and both lads were very caught up in the cute moment.

When the finally had to pull away for air – Harry’s response was short and sweet. “Yes, Lou, I’ll be your boyfriend.” Smiles played across both lad’s faces, and they were happy as could be.

At that moment, Harry vowed to never slice his wrists open again.

At that moment, Louis vowed to always tell Harry what was on his mind when it came to their love.

“Hazza? Come cuddle with me? It’s getting late… I’m sleepy…” Louis let out a delicate yawn, and Harry nodded – following him to Louis’ bedroom.

The room was the same as it had always been, messy, clothes scattered everywhere with a few empty cereal bowls here and there. Louis wasn’t the neatest person. Never was, and well – never had been. Harry didn’t care though. One of the most comforting things about Louis’ room was that it always smelled sweetly of the Doncaster boy, and Harry really loved it.

Louis lied down on his bed, slipping under the covers; and moments later –Harry followed suit. Soon the two young English city boys were spooning, surrounded by not only each other’s embrace, but their love and affection for one another as well.

“Boobear?” Harry questioned somewhat shyly.

“Yes, Hazza?” Louis replied.

“Promise we’ll be together forever, even we won’t.” Harry nuzzled on Louis neck quite contently, never had been happier.

“Of course, Hazza, I promise. We’re Hazza and Boobear, Larry Stylinson. We’ll always be together…” Louis sounded awfully drowsy, but neither lad wanted the tiny man to go to sleep just yet.

“Louis?”

“Yes, Harry?” Louis repeated.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hazza. Boobear loves his Harry forever and ever and ever.” Louis replied childishly, but thoughtfully – meaningfully.

It was true.

And with those last words of the night, the boys drifted off into a restful sleep.


End file.
